Through His Ages
by Jaiaelle
Summary: When he was 16, he had been intrigued by her... He remembers her through the ages of his life. Movieverse. Spoilers.


**I saw Iron Man on Saturday and it changed my life...ha ha, I'm SO just kidding. But I did love it - and not just because Robert Downey Jr. is incredibly attractive. I loved the action, the comedy, the romance...it certainly rivaled Spiderman in my geeky heart. So, of course, I had to write a fan fiction about it. But this is based solely on the movie verse and my own ideas - I have never read a comic book about Iron Man - I admit to not being a true fan. Anyway, enough of my blathering. Here's my story...and please, please, please review!!**

When he was 16, he had been intrigued by her.

The clothing she opted to wear covered most of her body and revealed nothing. To his teenage mind, this was a crime.

"Ms. Potts," he would say, leering at her. "Have any plans for later?"

The red headed copy girl would only glance at him, mutter a quiet "no", then continue with her work.

"Perhaps _we_ could do something. Together." He would grab her hand, pretending that his heart didn't beat faster at the smoothness of her smaller hand in his.

Blushing, she would pull back, shake her head. "Mr. Stark, I have work to do."

"You work too much."

"And you play too much."

At times she could be shy but at other times, when he pushed her too far, she would give him a look of reproof, eyes narrowed in a glare.

"I like to play. You should try it sometime."

She would continue to file papers for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I'll play after I'm through with school."

"So...you're fifteen now, working to make money for college, then you'll go to school for what? Four, five, six years? Then you get a job...which will be your new excuse not to play."

An eyebrow raised, she would let her gaze drop back to her work. "At least I have a purpose. What's yours?"

He had never felt completely comfortable under her scrutiny, though he had never been sure why.

When he was 18, standing on the rooftop, contemplating the distance from where he stood to the ground, she had been the one to come and stand next to him. She hadn't said anything; just stood by his side.

"This is the part where you tell me everything's going to be okay," he had prompted her, wanting to hear some words of comfort.

"I can't do that Tony. It may not be the truth."

He liked the way she said his name but wished that she hadn't said it, for the first time, that particular day.

"Honesty is a good quality in most cases but can't you lie to me today?" He had faced her, knowing that there were streaks on his face made by the paths of his tears.

In her eyes, he read compassion. And maybe something more... "No. But I can tell you this. I will be here. Always."

To make such a promise at 17 would seem to foolish to most but Tony never doubted her promise for a minute.

"Do you think I'll see them again?" He allowed his eyes to strain toward the sky, searching the heavens for any sign of his parents.

"I hope so."

And then, in the most unprofessional moment of her life, she had hugged him, briefly. When she stepped back, he felt like, maybe, everything would be okay.

When he was 21, he had named her his executive assistant on the same day that he announced he was to become the head of Stark Industries, replacing Obadiah Stane, who had taken over after his father, Howard Stark, had passed on.

Never one to lack confidence, he had allowed her to straighten his tie, fix his hair, as he listed to her all the improvements he would make within the company.

"Not that Obadiah has been slacking but I feel like I can bring a fresh vision to this company."

"Of course you can."

She had finished and he stepped back, allowing her to check for any flaws. "How do I look?"

"Fine."

"I'd prefer 'stunning', 'gorgeous', 'the pinnacle of perfection'. Something along those lines."

A slight smile graced her lips and he couldn't help but think that she was beautiful. "I'll leave that to your lady callers."

Rolling his eyes, he had turned, ready to head out to the press conference. "Come on Ms. Potts. They'll want to meet you too."

When he was 25, drunk, drunker than he ever had been, she had been there to rub his back as he vomited into the toilet.

"You usually hold your liquor so much better," she had said, handing him a cup of water to rinse his mouth out.

"I just...drank too much tonight."

"Why?" Her blue eyes bore into his brown ones and he could see the worry.

"No need to be concerned my dear Ms. Potts. I was simply enjoying myself. Which you should do occasionally." As he brushed his teeth, he had watched her face become stone.

"Does enjoying oneself mean projectile vomiting into the toilet all night long and waking up the next morning with a splitting headache?"

"Sometimes." He could almost feel the frustration and anger rolling off of her. Like usual, he chose to ignore it. "Help me to my bedroom."

"I'm not sure...not sure..." Flustered, her face had turned red. "Not sure that would be entirely appropriate."

"Don't think I can make it on my own." He sent her the dashing grin that usually turned women's hearts. He knew that it would not have the same effect on her.

"Okay," she sighed, relenting.

With one arm wrapped around her slim waist, he has shuffled to the bedroom, her barely managing to support him. Upon reaching the bed, she pushed him away, allowing him to plop onto the comforter of his bed.

"I won't be helping you again."

"I don't plan on getting this drunk again."

He watched her leave, pondering why he had drank so much in the first place. That he had witnessed her flirting with a man at the gala that evening had never crossed his mind as being a reason. Because that would've meant that he felt something for her, which he knew he certainly did not.

When he was 30, he realized that he could never live without her.

While trying to access his banking account it occurred to him that he did not know his own pin number. While signing unto his email account, he remembered that she kept his password. Further, he could not find a single business contact's phone number.

"Ms. Potts!" he had yelled, bounding up the stairs from the room that served as both garage and work room.

"Yes?" She had been working at the couch, facing the window. When she answered his call, she stood, the natural light streaming through the window framing her figure.

For a minute he wondered why he slept with countless women when the most beautiful of them all was standing in his very own living room. Quickly, he released the thought, resolving never to allow such thoughts to enter his mind again. "I need to know my pin number for my bank account, my password for my email account, and I need to call some business associates."

"Well, that's all right here." She had held up the black book she insisted on writing down all his appointments and information in. "Which one do you want first?"

"Shouldn't I have a copy of those?" he had asked, striding over to stand by her.

Her face had registered shock for a moment before she had responded. "If you would like..."

"Nah." He waved his hand at her, changing his mind. "They're much better in your hands Ms. Potts."

That small smile, the one that so characterized her, touched her lips.

"What would I do without you Ms. Potts?"

"I think, Mr. Stark, that you would be completely lost."

There was no arguing with her there.

When he was 35, he came to understand that he was wholly in love with her.

As the terrorists tortured him, it was her voice he heard in his mind, calling out his name. Yinsen asked him if he had anyone back home and her face hovered before him. Escaping the clutches of the vile men who had captured him drove him in those dark hours not only because he wanted to change the way his business was run but, also, because he wanted to see her face again. He wanted to touch her small, soft hand. He wanted see that small smile. Most of all, he wanted to tell her how he felt.

But as he crossed the tarmac, he knew that their time hadn't come. So he stayed silent on the subject, hoping to bring it up at a later date.

However, he vowed to himself that one day he would let her know how he desperately needed her always in his life. How he was empty, void without her.

How through his various ages he would want her, and her alone, to be the one to reprove him, to comfort him, to polish his exterior, to rub his back, to handle all his personal information, and to love him.

To love him with all her heart as he loved her.


End file.
